Her Demise

"Many brave things were done that night, but none were more brave than those done by men playing minute after minute as the ship settled quietly lower and lower in the sea. The music they played served alike as their own immortal requiem and their right to be recalled on the scrolls of undying fame."

Titanic Second Class Passenger

April 1912

R.M.S Titanic

North Atlantic Ocean

April 14, 1912

11:39 P.M

"It's bloody cold out here, is it not?" Fleet said as he looked out into the vast, dark horizon. And faintly, blending in with its surroundings, was a large object obstructing the beautiful horizon ahead.

Frederick Fleet and his co-lookout, both looked out into the distance. Without having their binoculars equipped on them, it made seeing the object very, very difficult.

"You see that?" Fleet asked. He lifted his arm out and pointed out into the front of the ship. "Look right there," Fleet continued. "What is that?"

The two lookouts squinted their eyes, trying to figure out what it was that was lurking in front of Titanic. Then it hit them.

"Iceberg!" Fleet said as he quickly turned around to dial the Bridge. He needed to warn them of the impending doom ahead. The phone began ringing. Another thirty seconds went by before anyone answered.

"Hello?" Third Officer Pitman said as he answered the call from the lookouts nest. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

Without hesitation, Fleet responded "Iceberg. Right ahead!"

"Thank you for this information," Third Officer Pitman said as he hung up the phone. And as he did that, First Officer Murdoch came running onto the Bridge. He gave his first, of series, order.

"Hard to Starboard!" Murdoch yelled as the helmsman quickly began turning the wheel to the left as fast as he could.

Murdoch then ran to the telemeter to send a full astern to the engine room. He pulled the golden lever back to "Full Astern" and pulled it forward again. The change of speed request was sent.

Once the wheel was hard over, the helmsman responded. "She's hard over sir." He was holding the wheel in place with all of his might.

Murdoch ran back outside to see if his ship would miss the iceberg. Titanic slowly began turning to its left as fast as she could.

He gripped the railing and watched the ship slowly begin her turn away from the impending doom just hundreds of feet ahead.

The telemeter dinged back, indicating the engines were now going full astern. Murdoch looked back at the Bridge. Third Officer Pitman, Helmsman Hitchins, and Second Officer Lightoller were all standing in silence waiting to see Titanic dodge her first Iceberg.

With the engines full astern and the rudder hard over to Starboard, there was simply no way the ship would hit the iceberg—head on at least.

She got closer and closer. Murdoch was sweating, with sweat pouring down his face like a dripping faucet.

"Come on, come on!" He said as the bow nearly missed the iceberg. Then the ship struck the iceberg, with it scraping down her starboard bow.

The entire ship began shaking, and it could be felt everywhere. Helmsman Hitchins was gripping the wheel as it shook violently.

Murdoch ran back to the bridge and gave his second order. "Hard to Port!"

Hitchins then began turning the wheel back to his right to turn the Titanic away from the iceberg so her propellers wouldn't be impacted and potentially broken off by the ice.

Suddenly, to Murdoch's right, he looked up at the gigantic iceberg slowly moving past him. It was towering over the Titanic, like the Empire State Building.

Murdoch went back onto the Bridge to talk to the other officers. As he did that, Captain Smith came onto the bridge half dressed.

"What happened?" Captain Smith asked as he looked around at the panicked Officers, including William Murdoch.

"An iceberg, Sir," Murdoch said. "I tried turning hard to Starboard, but she wasn't fast enough. I also put the ships full astern. But she hit. I logged the collision at 11:40p.m. I then ported around the iceberg."

Captain Smith's face went from having a tired look to an extremely concerned look. He walked outside and looked over the side of the ship to see if he could spot any damage or ice residue.

There was nothing. He turned around to face Murdoch and Lightoller. "Where's Mr. Andrews? We need to exchange words."

Ala Cartè Cafe

11:39 P.M

R.M.S Titanic

"Wedding Dance is one of my favorites," Theodore said as the band continued to play on in the cafè. They were playing classical tunes to accommodate the First Class passengers.

It was getting late, and outside it was completely dark. You couldn't see past the emitting light coming from Titanic. The waters were calm, and there were no crosswinds anywhere. Chilly it was though.

The band would only play two more tunes before retiring for the evening to their cabins. As they were playing the Wedding Dance, a slight and subtle jolt shook the entire cafè.

"What was that?" Roger asked as he continued playing his Cello.

"Probably just the engines. I wouldn't worry," Wallace said. "That's normal for a gigantic ship like her."

"Are you sure? That didn't feel normal at all," Roger mentioned.

"I assure you everything will be alright my kind man," Wallace reassured.

"Alright."

The band continued to play on as if undisturbed by the sudden jolt. A few minutes passed by without any cause for concern.

At approximately 11:50 PM, Roger again expressed concern for the liner. There was a noticeable slant forward, like a slanted slide.

Everyone was putting their instruments away, except for Theodore. He put the piano lid down, and locked it shut. Wallace locked his violin away into its black case along with the boe.

He picked it up. "No need for concern. This is the safest liner afloat. No man, object, or anything for that matter can sink her. Ask the designer himself. I hear he's on board Titanic for her Maiden Voyage."

"I actually saw him this morning for Sunday Church Services," Percy mentioned.

"If you're concerned about the safety of everyone on board this ship, I advise you to go speak with Mr. Andrews," Theodore said as he grabbed his hat and put it on. "Good night gentlemen."

Wallace put his hand on Roger's left shoulder and faintly smiled. "You young men always have the slightest insight to how a vessel like Titanic operates. If anything is wrong, we would have been informed by now, my friend. Go back to your cabin and get some sleep. Goodnight Roger. See you tomorrow morning."

Wallace proceeded to walk out of the cafè to head back to his cabin to turn in for the night. Once he was in the hallway, a stewardess approached him. She had a life vest on.

"Madam?" Wallace asked. "Is everything okay?"

She was voiceless, the panic and fear running through her veins. Her eyes showed every emotion she was feeling. That told Wallace a lot.

"They told us," she began to say in a shaky voice, "that we must get everyone up to the main deck immediately. A lifeboat drill is it."

"At this hour?" Wallace asked as he reached into his pocket to grab his pocket watch. The time read 11:56 p.m. A lifeboat drill this late is quite out of the ordinary.

The first class Grand Staircase was littered with fancy furniture, maple wood paneling, tiled floor with hints of gold embedded in it. The most impressive of them all was the large glass dome that was above. In the center of the dome and staircase was a large chandelier that hung down to give off enough light to see.

"It is quite odd that we're having a lifeboat drill this late of an hour. What is really going on?" Wallace asked as a male steward came running down the hallway and into the Grand Staircase.

"Lilliana?" He yelled. "What are you doing? Captain gave us clear orders! So do them now!"

Wallace looked at the man. "Do you know what is happening?"

"I know the ship is taking on water. I was in the mail room when water just started pouring into the ship. Me and a few other people quickly escaped, leaving behind tons of mail from England."

Wallace frowned. Roger came walking out of the Ala Cartè Cafè and approached Wallace and the two crew members. "I felt a jolt. I overheard someone say the ship is taking on water?"

"Indeed she is. Passengers who were taking evening strolls, say they saw a massive object slowly gliding by the starboard side of her. It was so close that you would have reached out and touched it."

Roger glanced to his right at Wallace. He hit his arm ever so slightly. "Told you there's something wrong," he said as he focused his attention on the male steward. "Is she going to sink?"

There was suddenly silence among everyone. Passengers who turned in early for the evening were being awoken all around the ship. First, Second, and Third Class.

The slant forward was becoming more and more apparent as time went on, causing panic to erupt throughout the entire liner.

"If you'd excuse us," the male steward said. "No need to worry. I'm sure we'll be back on our way shortly. They're doing an inspection as we speak. In fact, we're sailing at about 10 knots right now until the inspection is done. Just go back to your cabins. Good evening gentlemen."

And off the two steward's went, walking frantically down the hallway towards more First Class cabins. Roger and Wallace exchanged a few more words.

"I told you there is something wrong. And by the sounds of it, I don't think we'll be going back to sleep for awhile. I'm heading back to my cabin in the meantime. See you soon, Wally."

"Good evening Roger."

And after that, Wallace began his walk back down to his Second Class Cabin. He passed many other stewards and stewardesses on his way.

Back at his cabin, he gently set his violin down on the chair and walked over to his small vanity with a mirror. Laying on the top was a letter he began writing to his wife Maria Robinson.

He pulled his chair back and sat down. He grabbed his dip pen and dipped it in the ink cup. He scrapped the old letter and began an entirely new letter.

His room had a bed, with a curtain to hide his bed. It was meaty made, the curtain tucked back. A sink and mirror hung on the wall next to the bed. A towel was draped from the sink, hanging down.

Hartley began writing his letter:

To my dearest Maria,

I hate having to tell you this news, but I fear I will not be returning home next week. The Maiden voyage of Titanic was splendid the past few days.

I am currently back at my cabin, waiting to hear anything further of what is really happening aboard this majestic vessel.

I am unable to stay, unwilling to leave. I have played my tunes many times on this voyage and tonight will sadly be my last.

I had asked a crew member what was going on. When I was playing in the Ala Cartè Cafè at approximately 11:40, I felt a sudden jolt rock the entire ship. It was subtle. Not everyone noticed it. My Bandmate, Roger Bricoux, had also felt the shaking. There was no panic among anybody.

I mustn't worry, right?

As he was writing his letter, someone had knocked on his door. He looked back at his door and got up. He approached the door and opened it slightly. It was Captain Edward J. Smith and Thomas Andrews.

"Good evening, Mr. Hartley," Thomas Andrews greeted. "May we come in? I'm afraid this is urgent."

"Urgent?" Wallace questioned as he further opened his door and allowed the two gentlemen to come into his cabin. "Please—come in."

Wallace shut the door behind them. Thomas and Edward were standing in the small room.

"What is going on, Mr. Andrews?" Wallace asked. "I felt something unorthodox."

Thomas sighed, as did Captain Smith. "We struck an iceberg," Smith stated.

"An iceberg?" Wallace said shocked. "Was that the shaking and sudden jolt I felt?"

Captain Smith nodded.

"We have just finished our damage evaluation," Thomas Andrews said. "And by the looks of the damage, Titanic will founder."

"What he means is that Titanic will sink in time," Smith mentioned.

"She's sinking?"

"Yes," Andrews said. "I thought my watertight, state of the art, counter methods would forbid the ship from sinking, but my designs were flawed."

"How long do we have?"

"I predict that she will disappear beneath the water in about an hour or hour and a half. Not much time at all."

"The reason we came here was to ask you and your fellow band mates to play ragtime tunes to calm the passengers."

"I thought this was a lifeboat drill?"

"I told my crew to tell no one the real reason. This is all my fault," Smith said. "If only I had listened."

"Listened to what?"

"The ice warnings. This could've all been avoided."

Wallace chuckled. He tossed his arms up into the air and turned his back against the two gentlemen. "Mr. Andrews this is not your fault."

"I know."

"You want me to play until she's under?" Wallace asked. "Is that it?"

"Only until rescue arrived. We've been in contact with a nearby vessel. Hopefully they will arrive soon," Captain Smith said.

"I'll do it," Wallace said as he turned around to face them once more. "For the sake of the people. Don't think for one second, Captain Smith, that I'm doing this for you. I'm not. I'll do as you ask."

"Thank you kindly," Thomas Andrews said. "Your bravery is much appreciated."

Captain Smith and Thomas Andrews proceeded for the door. Thomas opened it. "Get a life jacket on and head up to the main deck please. Lifeboats are being prepared as we speak."

"I will most certainly do that. Thank you gentlemen."

The cabin door closed, leaving Hartley alone in his cabin. He immediately grabbed his violin and took one last glance around his cabin. A cabin he will never see again. He had a plan, and he intended to make that plan useful.

He walked towards the door and opened it. With his violin in its case, he shut the door behind him. The only things he was missing were his wife's letter and a life jacket.

He was ready to play some of the finest ragtime tunes before Titanic completely founders. By the sound of how severe the situation Wallace was in, it doesn't look like he'd playing for the passengers in the morning.